Ford At Valverde

The waves broke before him like a brick and mortar wall being chiseled away at his feet, where a new surface was to emerge. The sand was thick, but it felt good between his toes, and the water a mere reflection of something broader before him. It was like being cast into a role that he had always wanted to play, but the vicinity had changed and his reality was in pursuit. Only if it weren’t for the locals behind him, a well guarded establishment, he would have felt alone, but instead beamed like a tower that was ten feet tall. No words could express his gratitude for the fresh ocean air, with its salty spray and camphoric aroma that saturated his skin to the core of his being. It was easier to see the life all around him now that his heart was in full movement again.

  A delicate stride had been taken, and now the outcome would one day reason his future, and as far as he could see, it was surely bright. A man could learn to like such living, especially from the sounds of sea dwelling comforts.

  Above him was the menagerie of an orchestra, beating out the noise with the flaps of their wings and the gibberish of their calls that swallowed up the sky. The city was festooned with characters from every walk of life and the cultures seemed to merge like a delicately patched quilt, along the hills of Victorian crafted rooftops, stitched over time, and yet dressed for such a morning. The apparel made him feel welcome, part of civilization again, even if it was shallow attire. Gentlemen escorted their ladies along the floral trimmed streets with fanciful hats that flared their signatures against the azure.

  Daniel propped against the stilt footing of a pier and released the coil of his trouser legs to pull his boots back on. He was wearing a chestnut colored matching suit with a beige shirt beneath and knotted silk tie. His hair had been combed back and his mustache, with a simple curl on both sides and long hanging side-burns, made him appear dapper. He adjusted his spectacles, picked up his leather duffle, and went to find the street address that was written on the letter.

  The temptress and her seamstress were two in the same. If the silhouette in the mirror didn’t match the image in her head, then there was no use in tightening the corset so that she could no longer breathe. Appearing beautiful had its price, but fortunately she could afford the casualties of the day, even if it meant being frugal with the remains. There were two different suitors that were now calling on a steady basis, however, one hadn’t known about the other until a few days hence, and she believed he would have rivaled for her affection on the spot.

  However, there was one that usually stood between the opposing parties when it came to his mothers interest. Now a strapping young man, Emmett carried himself like a gentleman, with squared shoulders and handsomely chiseled features that caught the glances of attractive ladies, but he was already spoken for. The relationship had developed over eight months of which, he had already proposed and she gladly accepted. His mother had insisted on a prolonged engagement however, so that he might finish his business education and gain his bearings before settling down. He reluctantly agreed, although his fiancé, Ruby, with brilliant red hair and a fire to match, had pushed the issue on more than one occasion.

  Annabelle, although fond of her sons decision, just didn’t like the idea of his getting married before she herself had wed. When it came down to it, she felt the years were slipping by like the sun-flowers that the locusts withered away at with her youth. They had once been seeded and protected by the sun, only to be plucked away and left on the ground that had become barren the following year, except that they did thrive in the desert once. Though a land of emotions laid waste, like a tunnel where the sand slipped through, measuring the time since lost, she was trying to bloom again.

  When she slipped the velvet glove over her hand, it was plush and smooth, contrary to the tender roughness of what had once seemed so warm against her face. She still thought of Daniel, even though she had tried to put him away like so many things from her past. She had endeared the thought that he would search the world over to find her, and had felt sure that he would have made it to the coast by now. Despite the years of waiting, there was no hardness of heart. She had simply vowed to move on, to perhaps take a chance that fate would find her again along life’s way.

  The day of decision had finally come for her, when Clive Adams gave his ultimatum. She had since broken off with her other acquaintance and had committed to the relationship. He was the kind of man that could make things happen. He was honorable and kind, but wise in his affairs which had brought him a great deal of financial security. His hair was thick with salt and peppered strands that ribbed with the tonic that gave him a sleek appearance. He was also fifteen years her senior, but she didn’t seem to mind the age difference. He could offer her peace of mind and friendship, without the struggles that could pose unwanted challenges in her later years, and she did enjoy his company. A good conversationalist, he had impressed many with his political views and was willing to provide the funding for his support. It was also his support that had kept her Bed and Breakfast Inn afloat when it was fledgling.

  Annabelle had used most of the money from the opals to buy a three-story Victorian styled house that she had maintained by renting out the rooms. The income had been steady enough to earn a living the first couple of years, but since Clive had invested his energy into showing her how to manage it, she had since reaped the rewards. Word of mouth had spread and it had become a showpiece of fine furnishings, as well as a hospitable place to stay, and now she had three staff hands to meet its upkeep.

  The Coventry that had helped her when she first arrived had given her wise counsel, and had continued to be a source of confidence and strength. It was why she had penned the letter. She didn’t know that it would ever make its destination, or meet the hands of its intended, but it was a way to attempt closure from her past and move on. The words were necessary. The war was over and life had to go on, and she could no longer search her dreams for answers that never came forth.

  For years she had wrapped every need around the hugs she gave to Emmett, and in return gained the nimbleness to not lose hope, but now a dependency had grown so that Emmett kept his future plans at bay. He feared that she would be too lonely without him.

  So this would be the best decision for them both. If she went ahead and married, then he could go ahead and prosper in life the way that he deserved to. Perhaps she too would eventually find contentment in the simplistic decision. She was going to let Clive know of her answer after the morning service.

  The church bells had a familiar clang, hollowed out drones at a distance that somehow made him feel closer to home. On the street corner was a merchant scouting tickets to a prized fight, and before him a white trimmed building on a hill with green painted doors and the steeple. It didn’t make much sense why one seemed more appealing than the next, other than he had traveled so far and just maybe he was in need of some more optimism. He had went to the doorstep of the elegant home that was merely a handsome hotel. People came and went in those places with the changing of the day, so that when no one replied at the front desk, he assumed she too must have been passing through.

  An encouraging word was needed to ease the hour, to settle the thoughts of doubt that troubled his mind. He had never missed the sense of family so much and the need to belong. The man pressed on with the tickets, waving them high towards his face, but Daniel hardly noticed as he walked up the pathway that led to the double-doors.

  Once inside, the choir was singing something quaint that he didn’t know the words to and the congregation joined in. He took off his hat and stood within the back row, acknowledging those around him with an obscure nod. The singing seemed informal and pure, like the foam that rose above the waves after being beat upon by the wind. The chords were simple and sweet, despite the myriad of uneven voices. Daniel added a low rumbling hum that caused a head or two to turn in his direction so he cleared his throat instead. As soon as they had finished singing, the Minister stood at the pulpit and welcomed the guest. Daniel
was the stranger among them, but wanted to remain obscure, but then there was something odd about the mixture.

  The air smelled of sea mist and fisherman’s clothes, but it was as though something fresh and sweet had rippled its way past the monotone silence and pressed against his chest. It was like having been thirsty and gaining a sense of satisfaction at the same time, and he suddenly knew that everything was going to be all right. It seemed he had traveled the world over to that one place where everything needed to make sense. It was tranquil salt, like the resin that gives the earth its flavor.

  Then a lady several rows up was dismissing herself from the pew. A dollop of brownish blonde curls lolled beneath her velvet-rimmed hat, as she spoke something softly to the gentlemen beside her and sneezed. She was beautiful in a blue silk dress with a white chemisette that scooped the low necked bodice. As though embarrassed, she dabbed at her nose with a lacey handkerchief and turned in his direction. Her face was powdered lightly to perfection and her lips were full and stained red. Her green eyes shifted upward when she passed the last row, and she appeared startled as though he looked familiar, but continued through the narrow foyer and out the green doors.

  It was her. It had to be Belle. He had finally found her in all of her glory, and she was a vision to behold.

  His palms suddenly began to sweat and his heart sped to a rapid pulse. It was the kind of feeling that twisted his stomach up in knots. He wondered if she even knew it was him, or if it would even matter at this point, as it had dawned on him that the man she was sitting with could very well be her husband.

  He got up and walked out behind her. She was standing in the grass next to the steps as though she needed to catch her breath. Without knowing exactly how to approach her, he headed down the steps.

  She could hear his footsteps, but was afraid to turn in his direction, afraid that she was seeing things, a mirage from having wished him to appear for so long, and yet nervous that she might see him clearly.

  When he reached the last step, he stopped. At first he cautioned her response, then he reached out and rested his hand against her back. There was a slight shiver to her shoulders when she twisted around to see him. The same eyes that appeared so delicate, swelled with a knowing sense of warm sentiment.

  “It is you,” she said and reached out to touch the side of his face.

  Daniel marveled at the lovely creature before him, having wanted so many nights to feel her touch again, and his bottom lip began to quiver nervously.

  “I looked everywhere, but here..,” he replied in a deep way that said it was true.

  He took her velvet hand and cupped it in his own and then kissed her hand politely. There was so much to say, but the most important came to mind.

  “Is it possible that you are still free to marry?” he questioned as though searching her soul, and hoping the answer was in his favor.

  “I am.., Daniel Stone,” she leaned forward with a smile and kissed him tenderly on the lips.

  Then he grabbed onto her waist and pulled her into him with an embrace that lasted, as long as it took for the surrealness of the moment to settle in.

  roses still gather